


Beneath the Suit

by Cryo_Bucky, thefilthiestpiglet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canes, Civil War Compliant, Friends With Benefits, Future Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Polyamory, Sexperiments, Shibari, Steve and Tony are friends with benefits, Tony saves Steve from a sad grandpa life, goes from Avengers 1 to Cap 3, passing mention of pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryo_Bucky/pseuds/Cryo_Bucky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/thefilthiestpiglet
Summary: Tony decides to show his new friend Steve Rogers the future, and the future happens to involve some friendly, no-strings-attached light bondage and an exploration of the marvels of silicone-based technology.Or: Tony and Steve have sex (sort of), break up (sort of), and then reconcile (sort of)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to MCU Kinkbang getting me off my butt and writing, to brighteyedjill and allmyfavoritethings724 for beta and support, and to Trash Slack for dealing with all of my whining. Of course, none of this would have been possible without Cryo-Bucky, who said "yes" when I approached them with "I know you said you wanted Steve/Bucky but is it okay if I made it kinda sorta Steve/Tony?" and then cheered me on in my crazy endeavors. xoxoxo 
> 
> Oh, also if it wasn't obvious from all the tagging -- yes, Steve and Tony have sex. No, Steve and Tony don't end up together.
> 
> Cryo's beautiful art prompt (and the sex) are in Chapter 4.

“Jarvis, he up there?” Tony peered up at the darkened third story window. 

“Security cameras from the street indicate that Captain America hasn’t left the premises since entering his apartment last night at 3:12am.”

Tony sighed. By this point, he had to admit that he was just stalling for time, standing outside the building like a confused delivery guy. Usually people came to him, he didn’t go to people. Even Congress had figured out that subpoena-ing him was a bad idea. Why couldn’t the guy have taken the hint and visited Tony at Stark Tower? He built it with three lobbies and even labeled it with his name so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen.

Funny, he hadn’t felt this nervous about something since… well, since he stopped giving a damn about what his dad thought.

Tony swiveled and stalked resolutely back down the block. He didn’t need to be here. Fuck you, Dad, with your yearly trips to the Arctic and your room full of Captain America memorabilia. Your rhapsodizing about your “perfect creation.” Ugh. Tony donated most of it to the Smithsonian as soon as he was able.

He decided to turn left at the end of the block, and ended up walking past three coffee shops, a kebab place, and two craft breweries. 

Tony had a gut feeling for people, though. And it’s rare, to find someone who genuinely cared. Not just about their jobs or family or whatever, but *really* cared. About people. Rhodey’s one of them, Pepper’s another one. Banner, too. And…much as Tony wanted to roll his eyes at the patriotic get-up… it seemed like Cap was another one of them.

His first toy was a Captain America action figure, and his first bear was Bucky Bear. By the time he was 5 he had read most of the Captain America biographies (that’s what happens when you start reading at age 2 and blaze through all the dinosaur stuff in a particularly wild month around age 3.) When he was 10, he wrote his 11th grade history research paper on the guy. That was back when he still wanted his dad to like him.

Turned out that when confronted with the real thing, he didn’t know Cap at all.

There was a red light at the crosswalk, so Tony took another left.

None of the history books talked about the fact that Captain America is a little shit. Went toe-to-toe with Tony on the helicarrier, multiple times. Found the tesseract weapons without a single AI to help him. And wasn’t phased by the aliens or the Hulk or the Norse gods.

Sure, Tony’s read about his tactical genius in endless books, but no one wrote that said tactical genius was used in protection of the civilians.

There’s some rubble on the street — giant block of some cornice. Tony swerved around a pair of gawking tourists and took another left.

Cap was no goody-two-shoe company man, either. The pissed off look that he directed at Nick Fury when he found the tesseract weapons — well, that’s how Tony knew that all the earlier bickering was just banter.

Which was to say: Cap might be an interesting guy to know. Tony looked up — he’d somehow walked all the way around back to the apartment. 

The window was still dark. He could fly back to Stark Tower and count all of his walking towards his exercise goal.

“Damn it, I hate it when the old man’s right.”

Tony took a deep breath and went up the stairs.

———

Cap opened the door after the third knock, and whatever Tony was expecting, it sure wasn’t the man who greeted him. There were dark circles under Cap’s eyes, and bruises on his knuckles. It reminded Tony of the poor guys at college who’d pull 3 all-nighters in a row during finals week because they weren’t geniuses like him. Or maybe him and Rhodey after a Halo marathon -- sleep-walking, vacant. If Tony didn’t triple-check beforehand, he’d have thought he’d knocked on the wrong door and woken up some blond frat boy who just got dumped by his girlfriend.

“Um.. hey, Cap! What’s up? Remember me? We kinda fought some aliens together the other day, well, not together, since I obviously did the hard work of flying a nuke through some giant space hole but...”

Tony paused as he took in the change in front of his eyes: the man’s blue eyes sharpened, and his body gain sudden focus and alacrity. “Stark? What’s wrong? More aliens?” Whoa, when did the shield appear? Was it by the door this whole time? Captain America looked ready to barrel out the door and Save The Day.

“Whoa whoa, stand down, Cap. I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d drop by. You know, walk around your room, assert my manliness, laugh at your old technology, et cetera.” Tony pushed his way into the room, and pointedly flopped down on the one armchair in the room.

And wow, the view from the armchair was even more depressing than Rhodey’s second year dorm room. A few feet away there was dinky TV possibly salvaged from either a junkyard or a government office, and a few feet beyond that, a mattress in the corner. A dangerously sketchy duffle bag of twenties lay half-open by the door, and in the middle of the floor there was a stack of books — the “For Dummies” series, by the looks of it. And on the small table next to the armchair… Tony leaned in and picked up the papers in sheer disbelief.

“Wait, are these files that tell you which of the Howlers are dead?”

“Yeah,” came a quiet voice near his feet.

Oh god. Captain America is sitting on the floor, curled in on himself. Tony swallowed. He was prepared for meeting his childhood hero. Or possibly his teenage nemesis (because what else do you call the impossibly perfect person that dad always always compared him to?). Or maybe the guy who lead their weird-ass team to kicking out a bunch of crazy aliens.

He was not prepared for a depressed Steve Rogers.

He’d always known, intellectually, theoretically, that Captain America was a persona that was created in part by his dad and the US government, and that Steve Rogers happens to be the voice, body, and moral compass of said figure. But it’s quite another thing to sit there and realize that there’s an actual man behind all that bravado and garish red-white-and-blue getup. A man who piloted a plane into the arctic and woke up to find himself 70 years in the future with no friends. 

And apparently no one to properly teach the guy how to live.

Biting down on the words that he was going to have with Fury later, Tony instead looked at the top file. “Uncle Doog had 5 children, 15 grandchildren, and 7 great-grandchildren. One of the grandkids, Sarah, is one of my top lawyers. They have a family reunion every year up in Vermont, and of the 27 of them, there’s 5 Steves, 4 Margarets, 3 Sarahs, and a smattering of others that might either be named after Howlers, or just generic dude names from the 40s.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve had lifted his head, listening. So Tony flipped to the next one. “Uncle Jimmy’s family is all out in California. He got their farm back after the war, on account of how he’s a Howler and all that, and now their berries are shipped around the US. You can probably get some down the street. I don’t know how many of his kids are named Steve, but I’m gonna guess… all of them, even the girls.”

There’s a low chuckle at that, and since the next one’s Aunt Peg, Tony put the files down. “Happy to tell you more, or I can get JARVIS to send you all the information, Cap.” 

“Thanks, Tony. It... it’s good to hear. I really needed that.” Steve straightened his spine from his position on the floor, and looked at him for a long moment, assessing. Tony squirmed a bit but held his gaze -- he couldn’t tell what Steve was looking for, but it felt different from when Dad looked at him and found him wanting. Finally, Steve seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“My friend, in the war … he died during a mission.” Steve looked away and rubbed his knuckles violently, and Tony saw a bruise blossom and fade before his eyes. His friend … Steve was talking about Bucky as if the Sergeant’s noble sacrifice often the first line in any bio, inevitable and inescapable as the laws of mechanics.

Tony’s always liked Bucky more than Cap — his own form of rebellion against his dad, perhaps, or maybe because he’s always liked the sniper mechanic more than the patriotic artist. He’d grown up hearing about Bucky’s death, but this was the first time Tony’s truly felt the weight of it. Steve’s voice was dripping with the freshness of the death, as if it just happened yesterday. Because for Steve, it *was* like yesterday. Well, 71 days but Steve probably couldn’t automatically do these things in his head like Tony does.

Steve’s head was down and his voice sounded far away. “When he fell, I wanted to … I thought about …” Steve shook his head and let out a small helpless laugh, leaving Tony to wonder about the ends of those sentences. “I had to choose the mission. We were at war, and what was that one life if it helped save a million others?” The way Steve said that line — Tony could hear the Captain America-ness of it, the way that Steve firmly believed it, but also the personal cost to him. Then Steve turned to look up at Tony and it was like being caught in a repulsor blast, suddenly immobilized by the intensity of Steve’s feelings, now directed at him: Guilt. Loss. Resolve. “And when you flew that nuke into the portal… Tony, I’m sorry. I was the one who made the call to close it.” 

Oh god. Tony felt a sense of vertigo as several memories slammed his body at once. The endless falling as his suit went dark around him, the cold and the black closing in. His brain quiet for once, except for the ache to hear Pepper’s voice one last time. The TV in the living room reporting his parents’ death when he heard the click of the back door opening. It’s Rhodey and somehow his face was in Rhodey’s shoulder, and for a moment he could just let it all go and cry into Rhodey’s crisp clean uniform. He’s sitting on Aunt Peg’s living room floor, the smell of her gun oil mingling with her perfume as she told him about Bucky’s last mission, and how she found Steve crying alone in the bombed-out pub. “What did you do then?” he’d asked. And she’d given him a look and said curtly, “Set him straight. Reminded him of the mission.”

And suddenly Tony found himself moving. He closed the gap between them and took Steve into a hug. He didn’t like being handed things from relative strangers, much less whatever full-body-contact thing was going on right now, but ever since that day with Rhodey, Tony had always promised to pay it forward. “Hey Cap, you made the right call. Relax, I know it wasn’t because you hated my billionaire genius philanthropic ass.” Tony waited until Steve relaxed under his grip and returned the hug, then counted to twenty. That’s long enough for awkward human contact, right? He pulled away and cocked a grin. “Plus, I know it’s hard to tell because I cover my awkward nerd body with thousand-dollar suits, but I’m surprisingly hard to kill.”

Steve cracked another smile. “Only a thousand for that suit? What a steal.” Shit. Tony’s starting to genuinely like this guy. So he made a split-second decision.

“J, cancel the rest of my stuff for the day. I’m taking Cap out.”

Tony’s butt was not designed for floor sitting, so he hoisted himself up. Turning back, he found Steve cocking an eyebrow at him. Tony nodded at the sad piles around him. “SHIELD’s done a shitty job of introducing you to the future, if all they did was throw you a bunch of files about dead friends and drop you in an apartment with a bag of cash.” Then, because he is a Stark and therefore can’t resist dramatic flair, Tony threw a wide Vanna White gesture at the door. “C’mon, Steve. Let me show you the future.”

A shadow briefly passed over Steve’s eyes, but then he was up and ready. “Sure, Tony. Let’s do this.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tony got to know Steve Rogers a lot better over the next few days. 

Firstly, Steve was a little shit with a smart mouth. Whereas Rhodey would usually let Tony have the last word, Steve would push back, and kept on pushing. He didn’t have a single doctorate to his name, but he had a sharp tactical mind, zero formal training, and balls of steel, which somehow always added up to him going toe-to-toe with Tony. Steve could poke holes in any logic, and for someone whose slang dated from the 1930s, his sarcasm was *amazing*. Tony got so excited by one of Steve’s comebacks that he dialed up Rhodey to share, and ended up disrupting a meeting with the Joint Chiefs. Awesome win-win.

Secondly, Steve was super Brooklyn. Like, hipster-before-it-was cool, artisanal everything, doesn’t-own-a-car, and yells-passionately-about-some-local-baseball-thing Brooklyn. Sure, Steve called it “I just want to have ingredients the normal way” and “what do you mean, it’s always been a queer, artsy place” and “I don’t see why I need a car when there’s the train and I can run or bike most places.” Tony called it Hi-lar-ious. He’d bring up the Dodgers on purpose just to hear Steve start dropping consonants as he ranted and foamed. Extra bonus: Tony brought home some Steve-approved pastrami and now he’s on Pepper’s *extra* good side.

Thirdly, Steve was awkward as all hell in his body. Hell, Tony had some early suit piloting videos that was less clumsy than Steve was with his body sometimes. Sure, in a fight Captain America is all beauty and grace, and Tony’s sure it’s the same way in front of a camera selling war bonds or some other old timey shit. But when it’s just Steve, and not Captain America, he’s the clumsiest guy ever. They’d be walking somewhere and Steve’d just accidentally step a dent into the sidewalk, or trip and fall over nothing. Other times, Steve would space out and forget his own strength and accidentally destroys silverware and glassware. The first time it happened, Tony made a note to design a new alloy for an Avengers-only StarkPhone case that can stand up to super strength. But by the 10th time, well, it’s become a problem, because Tony had run out of jokes and Steve was looking more miserable with every broken glass and dented sidewalk.

“Hey, Paul Bunyan, wanna tell me what’s going on?” They were in one of those hole-in-the-wall delis that Steve always managed to find, and Steve was frantically trying to re-flatten the garish enamel plate that he’d accidentally taco-ed.

Tony’s voice is obnoxious enough to get Steve to stop his futile ministrations on the plate, and shoot Tony an sardonic eyebrow.

“What? Was that reference too recent for you, gramps?” Tony waggled his eyebrows theatrically. “Give up on the plate already — I can donate it to an art gallery or something.”

Steve set the-art-formerly-known-as-plate down and said in his best Captain America voice, “Paul Bunyan was 20 feet tall. If you’re going for the super strength angle, Samson’s a much better choice: old Catholic like me would definitely get it. Or do young kids like you not read the bible anymore?”

They exchanged a quick smile -- it’s fun trash-talking with Steve, because they both know that Steve’s no more an entrenched octogenarian than Tony a shallow young prodigy.

“Okay, fine, *Samson*. What’s going on? Need a Delilah to cut your hair or distract you?” Tony lowers his voice and goes for sultry. “I can be your Delilah, if you promise to stop your wanton destruction across these good Brooklyn establishments.”

Steve blushed, and Tony is still debating whether to play that straight or play it for laughs, when Steve hit Tony with the same slow assessing look from when they first met. Tony leaned back, unimpressed, and soon enough Steve heaved a sigh and answered.

“I’ve never been good at keeping track of my body — it’s never been the right size. Before the serum, it was always too small, too weak. Most days I just… ignored its limitations. If I listened to every ache and pain, I’d never get out of bed.” Steve got a faraway look in his eyes. “Always figured I’d be dead by 20.” 

God. At 20, Tony was working on his 2nd and 3rd doctorates simultaneously because he didn’t know what else he should do with his life. And all nongenarian joking aside, Steve’s only 30. When Tony was 30 he was designing weapons that could flatten small countries and trying to run from the shadow of his father by drinking himself under a table or into a bed every other night. Sometimes Tony forgot that Steve’s life didn’t just happen in the history books — it happened to *Steve.* Thankfully, the desserts come at this time, so they both had something to fiddle with as Steve continued.

“And after the serum, my body was too big. I had to re-learn how to hold things.” Steve chuckled around a mouthful of ice cream and gave the crumpled enamel plate a wry look. “Did you know that I ripped my first 3 pairs of pants when I tried to put them on? Just pulled too hard. I’m glad that modern clothes are stretchy — less easy to rip.”

Yeah, that was a fun day — Tony took Steve to a department store that was in Steve’s price range, and then provided appropriately disparaging commentary on everything that Steve tried on. The man had no sense of style, but given the way Steve’s pecs were currently putting the tensile properties of nylon to the test … well, Steve’s objectively hot and Pepper didn’t mind.

“So… mystery solved. You’ve always been a big klutz and the world doesn’t know because you’re fine when you’re on camera or when you’re fighting.” Tony leaned in and smiled conspiratorially. “So Steve, how many pairs of pants did you rip off-camera during the war? I need to know how many art gallery plates I need to budget for.”

Tony expected Steve to laugh, but instead, he heaved a heavy sigh. “Zero, while Bucky was around. Without Bucky …” Steve’s whole face pinched together, like his brain hit a null function. Not a Number. Does Not Compute. Tony knew that look — it’s why he never mentioned his parents’ names. Saying it means acknowledging that they’re gone, and the enormity of that is something not even his seven PhDs can handle.

“What, Bucky Barnes was running around taping your pants together? Did you even have tape back then? JARVIS, can you look that up? Or did you hand-sew everything…” Tony was rambling, and he knew it, but the real implications of Steve’s statement is just too much. He needed time to process. It was clear from the get-go that Bucky meant the world to Steve. But was there something more? Not gonna lie, Tony definitely jerked off to Bucky Barnes a few times in his early teens — it was what you did when you’re a nerd and finding yourself into men and trying to be transgressive and stick it to the old man all in one stroke. Well, several hundred strokes, but. 

Tony caught a look from Steve, and stopped himself mid-sentence. He didn’t even know what he’s talking about but that was Steve’s serious “stop it Tony and listen just once” face.

“Bucky was my everything, Tony. Before the serum, he was the one who could get me to stay home when my pneumonia got too bad. And after the serum, he’d nudge me and remind me to mind my strength. Bucky kept me present in my body. I knew that I could count on him to keep me pointed in the right direction.” And now that he knew to look, Tony realized he’d seen it — the way Steve would often glance to the side, expecting someone to be there. The way he sometimes listed to one side, then jerked back upright when there isn’t someone to bump against. “Without him…” Steve took a despairing, shuddering breath. “I’m unmoored.”

Fuck. While Tony was idly speculating about Captain America’s sexuality, Steve was mourning the death of a loved one. It didn’t matter whether Bucky was Steve’s family or lover -- what mattered was that he was gone. Oh god, what if Pepper were taken from him? He’d go insane. Probably do something crazy like send all of his suits on a world-wide manhunt. Compared to that, breaking every plate he touched seemed like small potatoes. 

And now Steve was a bundle of raw nerves sitting across from him, and Tony wasn’t feeling so great, either. Unmoored and lost in a sea of feelings. Tony grabbed for the first thought that came to his mind. 

“When Pepper’s on a business trip, I forget to eat, because I’m so used to eating with Pepper.” 

Steve looked up, skeptical of where Tony’s going with this, but curious. Well, Tony wasn’t quite sure, either, but he’d always been one to let the talking and thinking happen at the same time.

“Without her around, I just forgot that food was a thing I had to have. Or sometimes I’d forget that she was gone and I’d accidentally order something for the two of us, and suddenly I’m just like, shit, I got all this sushi to share and now I don’t feel like eating anything because now the food just reminds me that she’s not there. And it’s not like I have a secret bachelor stash of ramen packets anymore.”

Steve nodded, thoughtful instead of that earlier mess of open emotion. “What if she’s on a long trip, though? You can’t starve yourself for a month.”

Tony shrugged. “JARVIS makes sure I eat. First it’s food just showing up at my lab. Then he locks me out of the lab until I eat something. Sometimes he calls Rhodey to come yell at me….” Tony trailed off as he catches Steve’s face. What started out as genuine interest has frozen into quiet resignation. Of course — Steve’d never been comfortable with JARVIS’ constant monitoring, and he had no friends to harass him into eating food and taking care of himself. Aunt Peg was in a facility in DC and Steve’s not close to any of the Howlers’ extended family. 

Which left Tony.

Steve’s looking for real solutions. That’s fine. Tony was an engineer. This is just a problem to debug. Feeling spacey, lacking an anchor … God knows how many times Tony had experienced that -- basically all of his twenties and half of his thirties. But drinking really wasn’t a good solution, and for it to work on Steve, Tony’d probably have to liquidize a few assets. Building up a friend network took time, especially when you’re a prickly smart-ass like Tony or Steve. Heck, Tony only had Pepper, Rhodey, and JARVIS, and even they couldn’t stop him from drinking.

There had to be a way to hack this that didn’t involve mind-altering drugs or building a time portal to travel back in time and save Bucky Barnes. Wait. There was the Iron Man suit and the arc reactor. The first few weeks back from that hellhole in Afghanistan, Tony *slept* in the fucking suit. It made him feel safe, protected, anchored. And the pulses of the arc reactor was a constant reminder that he could die at any moment. That constant threat had made him more focused in everything else.

On impulse, Tony reached across the table and grabbed one of Steve’s hands. Steve gave him a quizzical look, but let Tony put Steve’s hand down flat against the table and lock his hand around Steve’s wrist. “Let’s try something: Eat the rest of the ice cream while keeping this hand here.”

Steve’s eyes flickered from Tony to his hand several times, and then shrugged. The hand stayed in place.

There are no further plate or utensil mishaps for the rest of the meal. By the end, Steve was licking his bowl as gracefully as he’d wield his shield. 

Heaving a sigh, Tony removed his hand and shook out his sore wrist. A tremor passed through Steve, and he gave his wrist and Tony a confused look. “Tony… why… how did that work?”

“I don’t know. Well, let me get back to you on that.”

Steve smiles, and his eyes shine a bit brighter than usual. “Well, whatever that was -- thanks. It really helped. And it was nice to talking about the happy times with Bucky, too.”

“No probs, Cap.” Tony’s mind was slow as molasses and going a million miles a minute. He must have said something appropriate to Steve -- maybe a joke about the Great Depression or schedules another outing? Whatever, JARVIS could tell him later. All Tony knew as he headed back to the Tower was that (a) he didn’t know Steve Rogers at all, and (b) he needed to talk to Pepper.

Oh, and also read up on 1940s sexuality.


	3. Chapter 3

“Whatever it is you want to say, Tony, just spit it out.” Steve sat back on the lab stool and glared at Tony.

Still, Tony hesitated, turning the bracelet over in his hand, checking for imperfections for the umpteenth time.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about the Avengers initiative. This is about me.” He squared his shoulders. “Well, I promise I will react in a reasonable manner. C’mon, Tony. You know me.”

Tony sighed. That he did. And he had Pepper’s blessing, after all. Plus he’d gotten JARVIS to rush the bracelets.

Deep breath. It’s not like you’re propositioning Captain America for sex or something. And he’d definitely propositioned a Senator before. Or maybe just a congressman. His twenties were a bit blurry. “I have a proposal. To help, um… your problem.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “My problem? Which one?” 

“Your, um… okaylookyouhavetroublebeingpresentinyourbodyandithinksomelightbondagemighthelpwiththat.” Now that wasn’t that bad, he got it all out. And Steve’s still standing there. Probably because Tony spoke so fast that he didn’t catch a single word. It’s okay. Steve had an eidetic memory, he could just play it back while Tony mumbled into the bracelet some more. Count the vibrational pulses in his chest as his reactor ran its cycles.

“Light bondage? What’s that?” 

Tony jerked his head up. Steve looked intrigued and not at all how his dad had reacted when he found Tony’s bare ass gracing a tabloid. Well, he supposed that was somewhat different. Maybe it had been a Senator after all.

“Um, JARVIS? Can you pull up a primer of some sort?”

“Certainly, sir.” A blue screen flickered in front of Steve with a whole compilation of words and … oh boy, there’ were some pretty graphic photos and clips there. And did Captain America just click to enlarge an image of a dildo?

Tony quickly turned around to give Steve some privacy, and palmed the bracelets once more. He tried to remind himself why he’s doing this. He liked Steve — he’s a good guy. And Steve was sad because he had even fewer friends than Tony, and because The Love of His Life, Bucky Barnes, was dead. Usually, Tony prefered to solve his friends’ problems by throwing money or robots at it, but in this case … Pepper agreed that this required a more personal touch. It didn’t hurt that Steve is hot as hell and Tony had been feeling the itch for … something different.

“Okay, Tony, two questions.”

Tony spun around and made little finger guns which Steve placidly ignored. “Sure thing, Cap. Shoot.”

“One: How does Miss Potts feel about you doing this with me? Two: How does light bondage help with me being more present in my body?”

“Oh, Pepper and I have an understanding — basically we check in with each other before and after.” Tony shrugged. “She’s seen me take home enough women to know the difference between one-night-stands and her. Besides, she has her thing with Romanoff, too.” Steve quirked an eyebrow, but other than that, seemed surprisingly okay with this whole concept of polyamory. Wait, Tony read something about that in that Gay New York book. Guys could fuck other guys as long as they got married and had kids. (Crap, was Steve expecting him and Pepper to have kids? Maybe if he hired some actor to be the father figure.) Shaking his head at how old people were so kinky and conservative at the same time, Tony continued, “Besides, light bondage doesn’t mean actual sex.”

“All right, what *does* it mean, and why would it help me be present in my body?” Steve’s arms were crossed, and he was leaning against a table with his best “I gotta hear this crazy idea” look.

“Well, when you’re wearing your Cap outfit, you’re present in your body because you’re aware of all the…” Tony waves his hand vaguely.

“The responsibility and the symbolism, yes.” Steve nods curtly. Tony got the sense that Steve’s feelings towards being Captain America were similar to his feelings about getting innovation awards.

“Well, what if you had something to remind you to be attentive and aware when you’re not wearing the suit? Basically ramp up your situational awareness without all the garish patriotism.”

Steve laughed at that, then nodded thoughtfully. “All right. So what do you have in mind?” 

Holy shit, Steve was actually interested.

For a second, Tony was tempted to just hand over the card with 5 professional doms’ contacts that was burning a hole in his back pocket. But no, Steve’s a friend, and Tony wouldn’t throw his friends into the deep end of the pool and hope they swim. Well, at least not without custom-designing a floatation device and three backups first.

Enough stalling. 

Tony brandished the two bracelets and clacked them together, making a pleasant metallic hum. “Well, for starters, I wanted to try these.”

“Huh, that looks interesting.” Was that a look of disappointment that flashed across Steve’s face? 

“What did you think I was going to give you?” 

Steve blushed. “I don’t know. There were a lot of whips and ropes and cuffs in that stuff that JARVIS showed me.”

Mentally noting that Steve might be a lot freakier than Tony expected, he pushed forward. “Well, let’s start with this and see if it helps. The goal here is not to tie you to a bed, but to help you feel more present in your body. Don’t want you squishing any more plates or busting any more sidewalks — we have enough cleanup to do with just the aliens.”

Tony slipped one bracelet onto each of Steve’s wrists, and activated them. With a low hum sound, the bracelets snapped together. 

Steve looked curiously at his cuffed hands. “Hm… so … what happens now? Do I try to break out of them?” Steve flexed his arms. “It doesn’t seem too hard.”

“No, Steve, the point is that you try *not* to break out of them.” Tony managed to grab the bracelets before Steve actually pulled them apart. “Choose to stop fighting. Let go.” It suddenly hit Tony that his whole plan hinged on asking Captain America to *not* fight. 

“Hmmm.” Steve frowned and examined the bracelets more closely. 

Tony felt his heart sink, but if he was going to fail, he might as well show his work. “Look, so I can remote control these, yeah? And so usually they won’t be activated, but then, I can randomly choose to activate them, which means that you have to be on alert, because you don’t know when it’ll happen.” God, it sounded worse than his seventh grade homework.

“Okay, so the key is that I’m ceding control to you in a way that I could constantly track on my body.” Steve raised his cuffed arms and waved them around. “But isn’t it kind of inconvenient, this cuffing thing? What if I’m about to grab a drink or shake a Senator’s hand? Why not use this technology with shibari instead?” Steve looked around. “JARVIS? Can you pull up some shibari pictures?”

As Steve sifted through the pictures that JARVIS helpfully provided, Tony couldn’t help but marvel at how Steve constantly surprised him. He’d expected Steve to be a prude about this, but he wasn’t. He’d expected Steve to be wary of technology, but Steve was interacting with JARVIS like a pro. And now that Steve had bought into the concept, he was diving into it headfirst, offering reasonable critiques and coming up with alternative solutions.

“Here, Tony, like this.” Steve swiped the image toward Tony. “No weird cuff thing, still about restriction and body sensation.”

And yeah, Steve’s right, it’s much more practical.

“But I spent so long designing these!” Tony wheedled. When Tony wheedled, Rhodey would just sigh and give in. Pepper would laugh and gently redirect. But Steve…

“Hah. Probably more like five minutes. C’mon, Tony, you can do better.” Steve always saw right through him and held him to a higher standard. “Besides, integrating your bracelet technology into soft ropes — that seems more like a Tony Stark sort of challenge … might take you all of 20 minutes.”

Damn it, the man is right. Tony even had some half-done tensile rope plans that he could build off of.

Tony makes a dramatic sigh of defeat and made shooing motions. “Fine — go for a run or try out my new obstacle course downstairs, and come back in an hour — it’ll take JARVIS about half an hour to fabricate the design.”

Steve laughed and made himself scarce.

———

“Fire-engine red? Why am I not surprised?” 

Tony shrugged. “Hey, I have a brand to maintain.”

Steve chuckled and ran the soft pliant rope in his hands, then tugged at it to test its tensile strength. It held against the super-strength, and Tony resisted giving himself a high-five. “Now watch this.” Tony fiddled with a little ring-shaped controller, and the rope visibly tightened. 

Steve made a properly appreciative sound, then tossed the rope back to Tony. “So how are we doing this? I should have my shirt off, right?”

“Well first of all, we’re NOT doing this in the lab.” Tony grimaced at all the odd-and-ends strewn about the various hard surfaces. Before he could think better of it, he offered, “Come on, let’s go up to my place. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Tony managed to chatter away on ride up his private elevator by explaining how the controller mirrored the exact tensile strength of the metallic threads woven into the rope, but once they stepped out onto the plush carpeting, it suddenly hit him that he had just invited Steve Rogers, Captain America and paragon of virtue, into his private suites.

Thank god that years of living with Pepper meant that the foyer and living room area was relatively clean.

“Here, let’s do it on the couch.” Tony winced at how that came out. “Er, just sit down and take off your shirt.”

Steve nodded and started unbuttoning his ugly plaid shirt. He folded that and then tugged off his white undershirt, which he also folded. The view of Steve’s well-toned body was quite nice, but Tony still found time to roll his eyes at Steve’s fuddy-duddy ways. Of course Steve folded his shirt and his pants… “Wait, why are you taking off your pants?”

Steve looked back, confused. “The diagrams I saw seemed to include the butt and the genitals too. Isn’t that the whole point? To create a constant low-level stimulation that helps keep me grounded?”

“Um, okay, wow.” Guess Steve Rogers never did anything by half. Tony rubbed a hand over his face. He’s going to have Captain America naked in his living room. _Breathe, Tony, you’re not 14 anymore._

Steve chuckled as he shucked off his briefs and sat down on the couch. “Come on, Tony, just because the old pictures were in black and white didn’t mean we were all prudes back then.”

“Are you sure? I thought sex was invented in the 60s. Everyone before that is born out of sad sexless marriages. Pretty sure they handed out penises the same time as recreational pot.”

Steve rolled his eyes dramatically, which was exactly what Tony was going for — it made things feel normal, trading quips with Steve. “You young people and your skewed image of history. You think you invented everything.”

“Actually, according to the US Patent Office, I *did* invent everything. Well, at least half of everything. The good half.” Tony took a seat next to Steve, and looped the middle of the rope around Steve’s neck. “All right then, you ready?” Steve’s throat bobbed under the rope, and Tony’s body suddenly caught on to the fact that he was now sitting very close to a set of perfect pecs. Looking up didn’t help either, because that jawline… wow. 

With a small blush and a faint quirk of his lips, Steve nodded, “Take it away, slugger.”

Taking a deep breath, Tony summoned all of his professionalism and started on the first overhand knot. While he was waiting for JARVIS to fabricate the rope, he had had time to think about the specific harness he wanted to do for Steve. It was a bit complex, but, well, Tony always liked to do things in style. The first knot completed, Tony gently raised Steve’s arms to slide the rope under and to adjust the spacing and position of the rope, pressing it firmly against Steve’s chest. At Steve’s quick intake of breath, Tony looked up. “You okay, Steve?”

Steve was blushing a bit. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just surprised by the sensation of the rope.” 

“Too rough? I could get JARVIS to re-fab the rope.” 

“No, it’s… nice. Softer than expected, actually.” Steve blushed harder, then swallowed. “Um, never mind me. Just keep going.”

As Tony did the other arm and then shifted back behind Steve to do the coin knot on the back, he found Steve stiff as a board.

“Hey Steve, you gotta relax a bit for this to work.” Tony frowned. Steve wasn’t like this just a second ago. Tony gently but firmly ran his hands along Steve’s spine, and felt Steve shiver once again beneath his fingers. A thrill ran through him -- he’d seen Steve in motion, and now all that strength was quivering at his simplest touch. Oh dear, Tony knew where that chain of thought led. 

In an effort to distract himself, he jabbed roughly at the hard knots in Steve’s finely muscled back. “Geez, it’s like Mount Rushmore back here, all patriotic and rocky.”

Steve laughed and some of the tension eased out, and then .. there’s that shiver again, as Tony rubbed Steve’s shoulders. Was Steve leaning into Tony a bit? God, when was the last time Steve got a proper massage? Tony carefully made another double overhand knot in-between Steve’s shoulder blades, then ran his hand along the rope, testing the tension. “How does it feel against you? Right degree of tightness?”

Steve’s “yes” came as a soft fluttering breath. 

“All right, then.” Tony threw the rope ends back over Steve’s shoulder and moved back to Steve’s front, and that’s when he caught sight of Steve’s face.

It’s softer than he’d ever seen it, and Steve’s youth shines through like an arc reactor in the darkness. Tony was struck by an overwhelming fondness -- Steve’s just 27, a boy, really. And the weight of the world on his shoulders. Steve’s eyes were half-lidded, and a small smile played across his lips. He let out another soft sigh as Tony smoothed the ropes against his chest. With more tenderness than he’d used in a while, Tony whispered, “Hey, you still with me?”

“Huh?” Steve seemed to shake himself and notice Tony for the first time. “Yeah, I’m fine.” And with that, the sharpness was back. “Sorry, it’s just took me by surprise, the way the network of rope stretches against my skin.”

“Hey, enjoy it, man. That’s the whole point of this. If I wanted it to feel bad, I would have just used wire.”

And with that, they fell into an easy pattern, back and forth, over and under, knots and loops. Tony’s hands knew their way around the figure eights and the wrap-arounds. Guess knotwork was like riding a bicycle or building your first robot -- you never quite forget how.

“Do you do this with Ms. Potts?” Steve asked as Tony worked on a particular tough overlap of four different strands.

“Nah, it’s too finicky, she doesn’t have the patience.” At Steve’s ‘huh’, Tony shrugged. “Well, she has to be patient about so many things in everyday life, mostly me but also running a giant multinational corporation. So usually at home, she just wants to relax, and this is the opposite of relaxing.” To underscore his point, Tony tugged on one of the knots and gave it a quick snap, which elicited another quick breath from Steve.

“So, uh, you don’t do this often?”

“Not since college, no.” Tony took a moment to work out a run his mind through the next knot sequence and test the tension of the rope. With the majority of his brain occupied, it seemed possible to tell Steve the rest of it. “My parents … they didn’t take my coming out that well.”

“Oh?” Steve managed to keep his voice even as his whole body shivered with Tony’s every touch.

“I don’t know how up to date you are with the last 70 years of history, but when I came out to my parents in 1989, it was the middle of the AIDS crisis.” Tony took a deep breath and let his mind fall into the quiet of the familiar hand motions. “My mom was distraught because she thought I was going to die, and my dad … well, he pretty much disowned me. Even now, I’m not sure if it was because he had his own image to protect, or whether he just thought that was the only way to get me to stop.”

Tony paused at Steve’s barely-contained snort. It’s so strange, to have this guy, his teenage arch-enemy, be more understanding about his temperament than his dad ever was.

“Yeah, of course I ran the other way — dove head-first into all the kinky deviant stuff I could find. Bondage clubs. Group orgies. Excessive drug use. One giant ‘fuck you’ to my parents.” Tony shook his head and tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t remember the first two years of college, actually. I came out with 3 majors without remembering a single class I took.” Two of them were pre-med track, but it was too little, too late.

Steve’s voice was quiet. “Your parents died in 1991.”

“Yeah.” Tony couldn’t help a grudging smile as he sighed. Of course Steve would figure it out. And keep pushing. “I wasn’t on the best of terms with them when they died. Well, Mom had come around to it about a year in. Even came with me to some of the hospital visits as my new friends started dying. But Dad…” Tony felt tears tickle at the corners of his eyes. “He died before I could … I dunno. Reconcile.” Either that or finally gather the courage to tell his dad that he was full of shit. Tony paused to blink away the tears at the edges of his vision. He was so jaded about death back then and tried to play it off as nothing, but… “It’s always been complicated with Dad.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.” Steve looked at him with eyes full of compassion. “I can’t imagine Howard being an easy personality to deal with as a father.”

A helpless laugh escaped Tony’s lips. “Yeah, no shit.” But it was nice, to have someone who knew his dad say that. His mother had loved his dad too much to ever say a bad word about him, and everyone else — well, Dad had always made sure that people only knew him as the Howard Stark of the news magazines.

“Anyway, that’s when I learned how to do all this stuff. Domming felt like one of the few ways I had control back then. A reliable way to stay grounded in the present, despite all the shit going down.” It was a good feeling, to carefully read the sub’s emotional state, to do the things that drove their arousal, to be someone that they could trust with their orgasm. Tony couldn’t help smiling past his tears. “Plus I could order people around *and* get them off. You know how I like ego trips.”

Steve chuckled, and they lapsed into another easy silence as Tony rotated back around to work on the next level of intertwined knot work. It felt good, to have his hands busy and his heart at ease. For a while, Tony slipped into the same zen-like mindset that happened when he’s neck-deep in his design lab, enough to almost miss Steve’s sudden awkward “um.”

“What is it?” Tony looked up from Steve’s lower back.

“Um… I…. Maybe we should stop?”

Steve was flushed and oddly hunched over, as if he were… oh. Tony peeked over from behind Steve to confirm. “Oh wow, that’s quite a weapon you got there, Steve. No wonder you only need the shield.”

Steve blubbered a bit as he tried to hide his half-erection behind his hands. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to… I’m not trying to…” 

“Oh come on, Steve.” Tony stopped laughing enough to put on a mock pout. “Are you trying to tell me that your all-American dick *doesn’t* react to my normal-sized physique and my mild belly flab? I’m offended.”

“No, I mean, you’re hot, Tony. Wait, I didn’t… I mean, yes but it’s not why…” Oh god. No wonder Aunt Pegs had always laughed when he asked about how she met Cap. The guy’s an absolute social disaster.

Tony let Steve dig himself deeper before stepping in. “Relax, Steve. So a little relaxed touching got you going.” He shrugged. “The dick does what it wants, man. Sometimes it happens to me when I’m just chilling and watching TV. Besides,” he pointed at himself. “Group orgies, remember?”

Steve cast one last look of betrayal at his cock, then looked up at Tony with uncertainty. “It’s… okay?”

Tony leaned back to study the … issue, well aware of Steve’s eyes on him. “Well, do you want to jerk off before I put the rope on, or just do it as-is? Either way, masturbation’s gonna be harder once the rope is on.” 

Steve considered this, still flushed beet red. “Um, if you can work around it…” 

Tony barked out a laugh. “Trust me, Steve, this isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.”

And since he was done with the back anyway, Tony wound the ropes back around. There was about two feet left on each end, perfect. “All right, Steve, don’t take it personally, but I’m about to get a little close. Maybe feel you up a bit.” Tony shot Steve a cocky grin. “And if your little guy there happens to take notice, well… I’ll consider it a compliment to my good looks.”

Steve laughed awkwardly and blushed even harder. Thankfully, Tony was as good at desexualizing something as he was going the other way. He said in as curt a tone as possible, “Lift up your balls, will you?”

“Uh, what?”

“The rope. It has to go down and around, and I don’t just mean your flagpole there.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Steve dutifully adjusted his scrotum and lifted himself from the couch to to let Tony slide the ropes under.

The ties here were relatively simple, but Tony had to focus on getting the correct tension -- not so tight as to cut off blood flow, but enough to maintain structural integrity with everything else, without making the cock take the burden of the tie. Tony was distracted, running little physics diagrams in his mind as he leaned in to finalize the tie, and only noticed his chin grazing the tip of Steve’s cock when it bobbed up to meet him.

They both froze. It was right there, beautifully pink and erect. Just begging to be touched. Tony resisted the compulsion to give the cock a friendly little lick. God, it’d been so long since he’d had cock in his mouth. He missed it. But this is Steve, who would probably fly another plane into the Arctic to avoid looking at him. Plus he should really check in with Pepper. Gotta keep this on the up-and-up. Tony made sure not to breathe wrong as he slowly pulled back. “Well, I think that part’s done.”

“Um,” Steve swallowed, clearly looking for a conversation topic that wasn’t his cock. “Have you tried the other side of it? The sub stuff, I mean.”

For a wild second Tony thought he was talking about the underside of his cock, before the rest of the question registered. “Oh, being the sub?” Tony shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fun, too. I actually got really into it after my parents died — Giving up control, trusting someone else to take care of me, losing myself for a while.” Tony moved back to testing tension along all the knots. “It was actually what gave me this idea in the first place — I knew how much it could help with grounding.” Tony bit his lip and tried to be as perfunctory as possible when he had to check the tension around the crotch rope. “I haven’t done either in a while. I guess I miss it more than I’d thought.”

“So why don’t you do it anymore?” Steve was managing to keep his voice steady even as Tony manhandled his balls. He could feel Steve’s erection subsiding, thank god.

“Well, with this around,” Tony tapped his reactor and it made the familiar dull clang. “I can’t really get into sub-space. Can’t leave my body now even if I wanted to.”

Steve frowned as he looked at Tony’s reactor. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony shrugged. “Hey, it also keeps me alive, *plus* I have a cool suit that flies and shoots repulsors. Four suits, actually.” Tony gave the rope one final tug, then patted Steve on the chest. “Wow, I think we’re done.”

Tony stepped back and admired his handiwork. It took some extra fiddling and some rather unorthodox ties, but the result was quite breathtaking, if he didn’t say so himself. Which he did. The red ropes crossed Steve’s chest in a star-shaped harness, and wound deliciously around his torso before taking a dive to gently yet inexorably cradle his genitals.

“Wow, I am amazing, especially considering that it’s been probably ten years since the last time I did this.” Tony preened, only half in jest, and Steve laughed.

“Wait, now for the main event…” Tony tugged at the control ring on his finger, and the entire harness tightened, drawing a low, shuddery breath from Steve. Which went straight to Tony’s dick.

Fuck a duck, and this just after he gave Steve the speech about casual erections, too. Tony pushed on, hoping that Steve didn’t notice.

“Anyway, it should tighten or loosen whenever I fidget with this control ring, and I’ll get JARVIS to key it to some random space noise, too. That should give the body tie enough unexpected tension to help ground you.” 

Steve nodded. “Thank you, Tony. It’s already helping. But what about when I shower?”

“Well, the strands are permeable and the metal threads have a water resistant coating, so it should do fine in the shower. And the great thing about the tension mechanism is that as long as you don’t stretch it too out of shape, it’ll self-correct.” Tony couldn’t help bragging a little. “It should be good for at least a month of normal wear, because I’m Tony Stark and I don’t make shitty products." 

Steve ran his hand along the rope and smiled. “Always figured there was a reason why Stark Technologies is a family name, but it’s nice to see it in action.”

“Anyway, when you’re bored of it, there’s an emergency release right here.” Tony reached over and showed Steve the tiny button embedded into one of the ends of the rope. “Press that and the entire thing disengages.”

Steve gave himself one more look-over, then started putting on his carefully-folded clothes. “Thanks, Tony.” Steve’s frumpy plaid shirt did a decent job of covering up what’s underneath, but his face still had a remnant of that soft honesty from the last hour. “Even if this doesn’t work, I’m glad that I have a friend in this century.” 

Tony smiled and patted Steve on the back. “Hey, right back ‘atcha. When you’re a cocky kid with a famous dad who was lightyears ahead of everyone else in class — you don’t end up making many friends.”

Steve laughed from the elevator door. “Well, being the ornery kid with a single mom who picked fights with everyone — I didn’t make many friends either.”

“And friends totally do light bondage for each other -- it’s the modern way.” Tony made sure to shoot finger guns at Steve.

“You weird modern youngsters.” Steve made an exaggerated scowl as the elevator door closed.

Well, then. That was both more and less than what he expected, which was turning out to be a typical reaction to spending time with Steve.

Tony sat back down on the couch and thought about the way the ropes framed Steve’s smooth skin, his cock an inch from Tony’s lips, his body shuddering under Tony’s hands. Yeah. Helping out a friend. That’s all that was.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony and Steve were out sampling all the ice cream from the ice cream carts in Central Park when they heard the booms. Steve tensed up at once, and Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s probably just some kids with illegal fireworks.” He gestured at the other folks who are placidly going about the park. “It’s New York.”

Just then an ugly statue got hit with blue light and dematerialized. “Or… not.” 

That was when the screaming began as people started running in every single direction. Steve was trying to corral people to safety but no one was listening to him, and Tony wasn’t wearing his homing wristbands. “Shit shit shit. Jarvis, remind me to work on the Accio Suit protocol. Fuck!” Tony ducked under a blast just in time to be rammed into by 200 lbs of super soldier. 

“Less talking, more running, Tony!” Steve had Tony by the midsection as he carried them away from the blasts.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t run away from stuff.” Tony was caught in something halfway between a fireman’s carry and a bridal carry, wondered briefly if this was what being a football felt like. A football moving at super soldier speeds.

“One, civilians will follow the person running the fastest and with the most purpose. Two, Stark Tower is a secure location and only takes 30 seconds at my top speed. Three, the first shots were fired into the air and the last one struck a statue, so they want to make demands first and won’t be hurting anyone until they get enough attention. Four, my shield and your suit are both in the tower, and five, I’m not running away, I’m carrying you, there’s a difference.” And with that, they were already in the tower lobby, Steve grinning from the adrenaline.

“Jarvis!”

“Private elevator, sir.” Steve made a beeline for the elevator, Tony prayed that no one around had time to whip out their cell phones, because being carried like a sack of potatoes by Captain America, even in a moment of crisis, was still pretty damn embarrassing.

The elevator dinged and Tony’s suit-case and Steve’s stuff was already in there. The seconds it took for the suit to unpack itself and wrap itself around his torso felt like an eternity as the screaming intensified outside the tower. “Jarvis, the tower is already in lockdown mode, right?”

“As of the moment you entered, sir.”

“If there isn’t some sort of protocol that lets in civilians and keeps out baddies, make that happen, ‘kay?” God, he was so not ready for this. They’re still rebuilding the top levels from the Chitauri attack, and it’s the fucking summer. Who attacked in the hottest months of the year, seriously? Shouldn’t even bad guys be sweating it out like the rest of them?

“Certainly, sir.” Jarvis’ voice comes out of Tony’s now-assembled face plate, and the digital displays lit up his vision -- nearby civilian concentration, police feed, aerial view of the park. Tony turned to find that Steve was also suited up -- garish red-white-and-blue replacing the loose short-sleeved checkered shirt that he was wearing earlier, shield firmly in hand. This was a far cry from the guy who was stuffing his mouth with otter pop just minutes earlier. After hanging out with Steve so much this past month, Tony couldn’t believe that he once thought Captain America and Steve were the same thing.

The man in the blue helmet shot him a look and Tony felt like he was five again and reading Captain America comics. “Ready to go, Tony?”

Tony threw a shaky salute that he hoped passes off as cocky. “Aye aye, Cap.”

Jarvis managed to disengage the lobby doors just before they hurtled through them.

————

“Careful, Jarvis.” Tony lifted his arms gingerly as the pieces of the suit disengaged and fell onto the carpet. “I got blasted a few times in the ribs.” Thank god it wasn’t the arc reactor that they hit. Thank god that Steve blocked the guy with his shield just in time, giving Tony a chance to hit the leader with his repulsors. All told, it was only 20 minutes, though the post-action media circus took much longer. It wasn’t fun, having to explain to a city how those guys got ahold of alien technology, when half the street corners still had rubble from the Chitauri attack.

“Jarvis, is it possible to scrub the footage from the Chitauri attack and figure out how many active Chitauri and SHIELD weapons are currently un-accounted for?”

“Counting the ones that you reclaimed today as secured, sir?”

“They better damn well be.” He’s going to have to call Fury about the tesseract-powered weapons. Maybe he could just get Steve to do all the yelling.

With the last piece of his suit retracted into the case, Tony collapsed onto his couch, careful to not sit on any bruises. Turned out 5 guys could still wreak a lot of havoc when they’ve been secretly stockpiling all of the loose weapons from under-staffed cleanup efforts. Thank god there weren’t any civilian casualties.

Ugh. And they didn’t even have the courtesy of color coding themselves, so Tony had to do it himself. The leader was obviously the red guy, and the second in command was the blue one. Too bad Steve hadn’t watched any of the Sentai stuff so he didn’t get it when Tony warned Steve about the blue guy. Steve…

Tony half-raised himself to see how Steve was doing his corner of the living room. He’d taken most of the blasts with his shield, but his suit wasn’t armored like Tony’s was. “Steve, you all right?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, nothing that won’t heal by tomorrow.” 

All right his ass. Steve was covered in purpling bruises, and Tony had to fight down the reflexive urge to immediately start designing a suit for Steve. As Pepper always reminded him: he couldn’t just take the people that he liked and lock them in a secure room to protect them. It wasn’t his job to protect everyone close to him, no matter how much he wanted to. Even if there are guys out there with access to alien weapons, and a whole universe of aliens who he may or may not have just given a giant middle finger to.

Tony desperately searched for something to lighten the mood, and that was when the implication of the red lines around Steve’s body hit him. No way. It was enough to roust him off of his couch and over to run his hands along the ropes. Silky smooth and fire engine red.

On a whim, he rotated his control ring, and the ropes tensed under his hand. Steve’s breath hitched slightly, and he turned to face Tony properly.

“Were you wearing that under your suit this whole time?” He’d thought Steve would have taken it off weeks ago by now.

“Of course.” Steve flushed and fingered one of the knots. “They work.”

Wait, why was Steve blushing? The last time Tony saw that particular shade of pink was when...

“Waitaminute. You masturbated in the shibari, didn’t you? Popped your capsicle all over my beautiful ropes.” At Steve’s deepening blush, Tony gasped. “No wait, you *didn’t*. You palmed it and then *stopped*.”

Steve turned away and mumbled, “I didn’t want to get it dirty, and besides… it’s not like I need it or anything.”

“Holy shit, Steve.” Tony grabbed Steve by the unbruised parts of his shoulders. “Are you telling me that Captain America has not jerked his wad since 1945? That there are no red-white-and-blue wigglies that ended their life in an unfortunate kleenex?”

Steve managed to come back with a weak “Paper tissues are such a waste when socks are perfectly functional.”

“Firstly, that’s gross, you don’t want your foot germs touching your cock. Secondly, don’t change the subject, we’ve got to get you off, man.”

Steve jerked his head up at that. “We? Tony, it’s okay, I can handle myself.”

“From what I’ve seen, you ‘handling’ yourself has resulted in crying into slices of pizza so sad that even Clint won’t eat it. You ‘handling’ yourself means *not*.” Tony started pulling Steve toward the guest room. “Come on, it’s bro code: the friendly popular jock always helps the sad nerd friend get laid. Or at least, get acquainted with moisturizer.”

“Wait, you’re the friendly popular jock in this analogy?”

“Hush, Steve, which one of us was around in the 80s and 90s and watched all of the shitty movies full of toxic masculinity? Yeah, not you.”

Maybe it was the post-battle fatigue, but with a shrug, Steve let himself get pulled into the bedroom. 

“Jarvis, my toy box is somewhere in storage, right? Can you get it sent up?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony surveyed the room -- kinda forgot that he had a guest room, honestly, but it had the standard amenities: bed, attached bathroom, some boring furniture. He gestured at the bed.

“All right, sit.”

“Tony, you really don’t have to do this. What about Ms. Potts? I’m really fine on my own.” Steve, of course, refused to sit.

“All right, fine.” Tony rubbed the back of his neck. Straightforward honesty really wasn’t his thing, but sometimes the situation called for it. “Look, you’re funny, and a total shithead, and a cool guy to be around, and … I don’t have many friends, so that means a lot.” Steve flushed, and seemed about to speak, so Tony hushed him with a poke. “You’re *definitely* not a stand-in for Pepper, and you will never supplant her in my iron-plated heart. But also, you’re hot, and you vibe pansexual like me, so I figure we can do this.” Tony thought back to Steve’s beautiful cock, all wrapped up in his favorite red. “So, um. A little bit of post-battle playtime, figure out what you’re into, get you off. Maybe get me off, too.” Tony pinned Steve with a look. “Honestly, you look like you need it.”

Steve looked like he’s about to protest again, but then wisely shut his mouth.

Tony looked at the fading bruises on Steve’s skin, and thought back to Steve blocking that shot with his shield. “It also helps that last time we did this, you didn’t throw my emotional vulnerability back in my face, so… I trust you.”

Steve nodded solemnly, looking as overwhelmed as Tony felt. Ugh, emotional honesty was so fucking hard. Thankfully, the bot elevator dinged and DUM-E rolled in with Tony’s toy box.

Muttering a thanks to Jarvis’ suspiciously impeccable timing under his breath, Tony tossed open the toy box with a flourish. “So Steve, I promised to show you the future — have you seen the advancements in dildo technology?”

Steve looked over at the box dubiously, then something in him seemed to resolve. He squared his shoulders and shot Tony a shy grin. “Sure Tony. Where do we start?”

With a joyful yelp, Tony started pulling out an assortment of toys from the box.

“So… there’s lots of different things to try. Clearly you like the sensations of shibari, so … maybe something else that’s sensation-focused?”

Steve nodded slowly, eyeing the various floggers with suspicion. “Can we start slow? One toy at a time.”

“Sure thing. Anything you want to try -- we’ve got things to hit, things to bind, things that pinch… oh hey, how do you feel about butt stuff? Everything here’s been sanitized to within an inch of their lives so I think anything’s a go.” 

Steve swallowed and peered into Tony’s box. “Um… I don’t think I’m ready to have you in me…”

“Oh, shit, no, I don’t want that either. At least not without first getting the okay from Pep.” Tony reached in a pulled out a buttplug at random. “See, this one just goes in and vibrates. All your anal needs without having to deal with a real cock.”

Steve’s eyes shone as he finally grasped the potential of silicone technology. “You future people and your material waste. An entire box! Just for sex implements!” He ran a hand through the soft leather strands of a flogger. 

That brought a chuckle out of Tony. “Yeah, wait till you see the sex shop I own down on 24th.” Tony put half of the floggers back in the box, and pulled out a few representative items. “Here’s what I think: first, the blindfold — it’ll increase your sensitivity. Then, we’ll try some of these to start. Anything that doesn’t work for you, just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Any word?”

Tony shrugged. “You can tell me a safeword which would mean ‘stop immediately’. It’s the first time, so let’s not use gags or anything that really pushes your fear buttons. And since we’re not doing any rape roleplay, I’ll also take ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘I don’t want that’, et cetera as, well, instructions to stop.” 

Steve nodded. “Brylcreem. That’s my safeword."

Weird, but okay. Tony stood up. “Sounds good. Now how about if you put that stuff in the order that you want to try? Put aside anything that might be too much or too boring. I’m gonna go grab a drink in the meantime. Oh, and you should probably take your clothes off when you’re ready.”

To give Steve some privacy, Tony stalked off to avail himself of his liquor cabinet. Two fingers of whiskey in, it finally sank in that he had Captain America in his guest bedroom, trussed up in beautiful shibari and wanting more.

“Fuck, what am I doing?” If Tony wanted to lie to himself, he’d say it’s because Steve was hot, and that he’d always wanted to pop America’s cherry. Except that there’s a very small chance that Steve’s a virgin in that way. The 1940s weren’t prudish, if his recent readings had taught him anything. They just had different standards, overly elaborate bathhouse rules, and no consumer silicone. 

So why *was* he here, trying to get himself psyched up for some playtime with Captain America?

Well, not Captain America. Steve Rogers. Tony saw Captain America tonight and he’s kind of a bore. Steve, on the other hand, was funny, hot and smart and currently waiting for him next door, probably naked. 

Oh. Well, his dick had certainly taken an interest in *that* particular mental image. And hey, he was half a bottle in and still riding off of the battle high, might as well think with his dick for a while.

“Hey Steve, ‘m coming in, you ready?”

“I’m ready,” came the answering reply, so Tony stepped into the room.

“Oh wow.”

Steve had laid himself out on the bed, naked except for the rope and the blindfold. He’d slung his arms up over his head, hands latched against the edges of the headboard. The bruises had now faded to a muted purple, which, paired with Steve’s pink blush, softened the stark lines of red rope against pale skin. His legs were laid flat and slightly apart next to the array of objects carefully set out at the foot of the bed. And front and center, that blushed-pink cock, flushed and most of the way hard. 

Acting mostly on impulse, Tony stepped up and gave that cock a gentle lick.

Steve made a small yelp, and Tony couldn’t help a big grin. “Hello there.” He palmed Steve’s cock and gave it a few pulls. “Ready to get this little slugger off?”

Steve nodded, suddenly shy. There was something about the way that Steve was laid out that went straight to Tony’s dick. Tony shucked off his shirt and pants, and straddled Steve’s midsection. He rand a light hand along Steve’s body, feeling it shiver beneath his touch. Steve was glowing in the lamplight. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “This body… just… unf.” Tony runs a finger down Steve’s perfect abs, framed beautifully by the red rope.

Steve’s body tensed, and his voice was dry when he replied. “I seem to recall someone saying that all of this came out of a bottle.”

It was like getting doused with cold water. “Sorry, Steve.” Tony jerked his hand back and scrambled off the bed.

Okay, deep breaths. He’s here for Steve, not for Captain America. After all, Steve’s issues with his body was what got them here in the first place. It’s the one thing that made him what he was now, and it was the one thing that wasn’t his. Tony thought back to the way his dad used to rhapsodize about “his perfect creation”, and felt sick to his stomach. 

“I’m sorry”, Tony said again. “I was just running my mouth without thinking.” He sat back down on the bed, careful not to touch Steve. “God, you trusted me, showed me this part of you, and *that’s* what’s so beautiful, and I just fucked it up with my big mouth. Do you want to stop?”

Steve swallowed. “It’s okay. Can we … get on with it?”

Tony nodded and remembered to say “Sure,” since Steve’s blindfolded. He turned to examine the lineup of toys. First up was a set of nipple clamps. Hmm, interesting choice. Maybe he could still do this right.

“Y’know, Steve.” Tony said conversationally as he got up and walked around the bed. “I know you don’t think much for your serumed body, but,” and here he gave Steve’s nipples a hard squeeze and hears a satisfying gasp. “You might as well get used to it.” Tony quietly padded over to the other side, hoping that super soldier ears wouldn’t sabotage the element of surprise. “I know a thing or two about waking up with a body mod,” Tony said as he clipped the left clamp onto Steve’s tender nipple, and kept talking through Steve’s sharp hiss. “And look at me now — I’ve invented a robot suit, clean energy, *and* saved the planet at least once.” He snapped on the other nipple clamp just as the reaction from the first one was starting to ease, and Steve’s entire body jerked. “Don’t always like what’s been done to your body? You gotta OWN it.”

Steve choked back a moan as he nodded, and Tony briefly wondered if the super serum gave Steve super sensitivity as well. Tony traces his fingers along the edges of the bruises, and felt Steve shiver under him. This -- Steve open and reacting to his every touch -- that was what Tony wanted. He ran a hand along Steve’s cheek, leaned in and whispered, “It’s okay Steve. Let go and just feel.” Steve nuzzled gently into Tony’s hand, a sure sign of approval as any.

So Tony tugged at the chain connecting the nipple clamps, pulling another moan out of Steve.

“That good?”

“Oh god, yes.” Steve was panting around the sensations in his nipples, and Tony’s own cock was taking notice again. Tony tucks the chain of the nipple clamps to the strand of the shibari that led directly to Steve’s cock, and then fiddled with his ring. The ropes tensed and shook at the clamps in the process, eliciting another satisfied hum from Steve.

Still fiddling with the ring, Tony began to prep the next item: a rather impressive looking butt plug. 

“So, Brylcreem, huh? You don’t look like someone who’d put that crap in your hair.” Ugh, Tony hated the feeling of lube on his fingers, much less his hair.

Steve breathed a small chuckle around the discomfort of the nipple clamps. “Yeah, I hate that stuff, too.”

Everything slicked up and ready, Tony moved back and tapped the butt plug against Steve’s straining cock. “Ready for the next thing?” Steve nodded, reached down with his arms and pulled his legs up and apart.

Tony’s slicked up finger slid right in up to the knuckle on his first try, and he managed to keep the surprise out of his voice as he said, “Well, you’ve clearly done butt stuff before.”

Steve tensed around Tony’s finger. “Yeah.” He blushed but refused to say anything more.

Of course, leave it up to Steve Rogers to be lying blindfolded with a body tie and nipple clamps and a guy’s finger up his ass but *still* be stoic as all hell. Tony decided to cut to the chase. “Was it with Barnes?”

Steve clenched up so bad at that, Tony was glad he only had one finger in there, jesus fuck. He wasn’t about to martyr his finger on Steve’s 1940s stoicism. “It’s okay, you know. Ever since I got to know you, I kinda figured you and Barnes were probably doing it in the 40s. Heck, given how hot he looked in those photos, *I’d* probably have jumped his bones if given the chance.”

With Tony’s blabbing, Steve began to ease around his finger enough for Tony to beat a hasty retreat. “I know it’s all sorts of taboo back then, but from where I stand, it’s kinda hot, you two being best friends in the battlefield *and* in the sack. Nice two-for-one deal. Plus you probably saved on blankets and other stuff.” Steve breathed out a low chuckle and Tony decided to risk it and slip two fingers in. Steve was still too tight, but loosening up as Tony talked.

“Y’know, I don’t mind if you want to talk about him,” Tony said gently as he eased in a third finger. “I mean, usually it’s not kosher to talk about exes but we’re not dating — just having a little fun.” Steve hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded. His shoulders lost a bit more of their tension, and Tony was able to scissor his fingers a bit. Awesome, now they were ready.

He pulled out his fingers with a wet slick and lined up the butt plug. “All right, champ. Breathe for me.” Steve took a long, even breath and expertly bore down with his muscles, letting the buttplug in with one smooth pop. Tony couldn’t help make a little noise of approval, which caused Steve to blush and smile. 

“This definitely isn’t your first rodeo.”

“Nope.” Steve made the ‘p’ pop with satisfaction.

Tony took a step back to wipe off all that gross grease and to admire his handiwork: all those beautiful muscles bound in red rope, the silver chain of the nipple clamps draped across the star pattern and pulsing at random intervals, and Steve keeping his knees pulled back and his ass exposed with the flared base of the butt plug belying how deep it went. Between his legs, Steve’s cock was still encircled by the rope, erect and starting to leak.

Tony wanted to tell Steve how beautiful he was, but it’d come across wrong. And besides, it wasn’t just about the visuals. He got the feeling that Steve’d never told anyone in this century about Barnes before. 

“This is your first time since 1945,” Tony blurted. 

Steve nodded, suddenly shy, and Tony was hit with a surge of affection for him. Steve was laid out before him, blindfolded and opened up, trusting this part of him to Tony. He was probably the first person to see this side of Steve since Barnes in 1945, and Tony’s pretty sure that’s *not* just his hubris talking. Of course this went straight to his dick.

Tony cracked a smile and picked up the cane. “Well, then, let’s make it good.”

He snapped the cane against the buttplug and turned it on at the same time.

Steve screamed beautifully at that, and Tony didn’t let up. He kept up the pace, striking the nipple clamps next, and then the soles of Steve’s feet, then some of Steve’s healing bruises. With each hit, Steve screamed with surprise and enthusiasm, leaning into the sensation. His bobbing cock left a web of precome all over the shibari, and Tony’s cock was aching.

Tony stepped to give Steve a moment, and to attend to his own cock. “That was fun, huh? Feeling one with your body yet?”

Steve nodded emphatically, and firmed up his grip on his knees.

“Want more?”

Steve responded with a little whine that sounded wrong coming out of such a large body. Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh wow, Steve, you’re really into this, aren’t you?” An idea came to him, and he gently tapped his cane against Steve’s cock. “Want to take it a step further?” Steve stilled under his touch, leaving the only movement the pulse of the ropes.

Well, then. “Since your cock is currently all tied up,” Tony underscored the point by snapping the rope a few times, “do you think you can keep from coming until I tell you to?”

“I don’t … ” Steve chewed his lip. “Don’t ask me to beg for it.”

Tony snorted. “Of course not, you’re Steve fucking Rogers. The day I see you beg is the day when the sun refuses to rise. Think of it as a challenge — can you hold out until the right moment?”

Steve blushed beet red, but nodded.

“All right then.” Tony flexed his shoulders. “Here we go.” 

Tony started up with a series of strikes along Steve’s most sensitive parts — his nipples, his ass, his inner thighs, his knuckles, and Steve screamed until he was a hoarse, whimpering mess.

“How are you doing? Still good?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded.

“All right, the next bit is going to be … pretty intense. But try not to scream. Hold it in, let it build up.” Steve’s mouth immediately clamped shut, so Tony added. “Oh jeez, make sure to breathe. It might help if you have something to distract yourself from coming. Maybe tell a story or something.” 

Tony checked that Steve had nodded before he started in on caning Steve’s cock.

Steve’s breath hitched with each strike, but true to his word he bit down against each carefully timed hit. It made his story start and stop like an old movie. “So. We started. In the 30s, ya know. I hated all his. hair stuff and he knew it. So it became a. shorthand for anything. I didn’t like.” Tony paused to nod and traced his cane lightly around Steve’s balls, now purple from being bound in the ropes. “I was so worried. after I got big. What if he just. liked. me. small?” Steve’s voice hitched and not just from Tony’s next strike on his balls. “If he didn’t want. me no more. I woulda…” And here, Steve paused for so long that Tony had to fill in for him. 

“It would have been another part of you that you gave up to be Captain America.”

“Yeah.” The word came out bitter -- another side of him that Steve usually kept carefully tucked away, which he now laid open before Tony. All Tony could do was honor that honesty and treat Steve right. 

Tony moved to use the tip of the cane to tickle Steve’s feet, offering a detenté from all of the intensity. “Lemme guess -- it turned out Barnes didn’t give a shit about the new body, and you guys probably fucked all over Europe.”

Steve nodded happily, which made it a perfect time to snap at the nipple clamps. Steve arched his back, but remembered to bite down on the scream, and more precome dribbled out of his cock. “Not yet, Steve.” Steve was so close, but Tony wanted a share of the moment, too. 

Steve whined but he held still as Tony firmly palmed his own cock and started tugging it at an even pace. He slacked off on the cane, only tapping out random strikes to keep Steve in a holding pattern. God, Steve was so beautiful just then, trusting Tony to get him there, all his sadness, doubt, and joy laid open like a book. Tony was aware of how precious this gift was, but there was one more thing that Tony had to know. “So why haven’t you let yourself come since then?” 

Steve’s body stuttered, and Tony could feel the book closing. But he pushed forward, because dammit he’s Tony Stark and he took dumb risks and victory was sweeter for how close he came to losing everything. “Don’t give me some bullshit about how you didn’t feel like it. A man has needs, and I’m pretty sure you don’t believe the whole ‘masturbation makes you blind’ thing.”

Steve stilled, then, his breathing getting still and even, as if he were holding in too many emotions. Tony picked up the pace with alternating light and heavy strikes to Steve’s cock and balls. Timing the build-up properly was like getting the gears turning in the right order. And if he got it right (and of course he would, or he wouldn’t be Tony Stark), Steve’s orgasm would be as beautiful as seeing a suit unfold and come together. 

Tony tracked as Steve’s breathing got heavier and faster, speeding up his strikes to keep in time with each breath, and keeping pace with his own hand around his cock. “Come on,” he gritted. He was flying. He was falling. He was so close. Now! Tony dropped the cane, gripped Steve’s cock with his spare hand, leaned in and whispered against Steve’s ear, “It’s okay, Steve. Let it out.”

Steve keened and Tony felt Steve’s cock pulse and spurt under his hand at the same time that orgasm ripped through him. Under him, Steve was heaving big ugly sobs. “I couldn’t catch him.” 

Tony was still a bit fuzzy from coming. “You couldn’t what?”

But it’s as if a dam has broken open, and words were just pouring out of Steve as he hiccuped and sobbed. “I was trying to reach for him, I was knocked out and the next thing I knew he was out of the train.” Steve dropped his knees to rub at his face. “What’s the use of this body if I couldn’t even save him?”

Tony shoved Steve a bit and rolled onto the bed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, have you been punishing yourself by not letting little Rogers here get some well-deserved R&R?”

Steve gave Tony a look that was equal parts haunted and petulant. “But it *is* my fault. If I were able to reach those extra inches.” 

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Or it could have been the wind factor, or maybe the speed of the train affected the angle of the turn. Your body’s nice, but it’s not superhuman, you know.” 

Okay, the look is now mostly petulant. Tony sat up and tossed his shirt back on. “Look, take it from someone who’s had to grow up with you held up like some paragon of perfection — it’s *not* always about you, Steve.”

Tony paced outside and grabbed the last half of the bottle. Now that it’s over, he just felt spent. In a good sort of way, but still exhausted. Did Captain America, National Icon, just come in his guest bedroom? While crying about his dead boyfriend? Tony shook his head. Nah, it’s just Steve. Speaking of which -- Tony headed back to the room, with an extra glass in case Steve felt like not-getting-drunk.

“You’re right, Tony. Thank you.” Steve was sitting upright now, the clamps and buttplug carefully placed upright on the bedside table. Steve then looked down and makes a face at the spunk that’s everywhere. “God, I’m sorry, I’ve made a mess.”

Tony sauntered over and put on his best scolding voice. “Why Steven Grant Rogers, I do believe you’ve put Jackson Pollock to shame. I should frame this and put it in the art gallery next to that plate art you made the other day.” Steve gave him such an incredulous look that Tony broke out into a laugh. “What, I totally have an art gallery of your stuff. In my head, mostly, but I can buy an art gallery and make it real if I wanted to.” 

Steve looked so awkward, sitting there with the rope and the come and the cane marks, that finally Tony took pity. “Here, use the quick release mechanism, and then let Jarvis give the rope a quick rinse while we put the toys away. Then if you still want it, I can put the ties back on.”

It was another half hour of clean-up, and by then Tony was about ready to fall into bed and sleep for twenty years. But finally, all the toys were put away, the shibari re-tied, and Steve was dressed in his ugly shirt and standing at the elevator door.

“Thank you, too, for asking about Bucky. It’s the first time I’ve told someone about all this.” Oh god, Steve’s earnesty is so much.

“Yeah, it’s good to let it out. And thanks for trusting me with all this.” Tony stifled a yawn, but tired as he was, there was one last thing to deal with before he could crash.

“Okay, Cap. Before you leave me on the doorstep like it’s our first high school date, there’s something very important we have to talk about.”

“What?”

Tony straightened up from the wall that was supporting most of his weight. “This isn’t just transactional. I’m not some bondage-dispensing machine.”

Steve laughed. “Well, of course not.”

"Okay, but I'm not your stand-in for Barnes, either. We’re doing this because we’re consenting adults who are having some fun. It takes trust to do this right. Well, either that or a whole lot of money and a proper professional.”

Steve got a worried look on his face. “Tony, if I’d known this was a burden for you …”

“Nah, it was fun. I got off, too, remember? Just … remember that either of us can say no, and that we need to be honest about all this. Every step of the way.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Tony. For doing this. For being my friend.”

“Yeah yeah, all this emotional honesty is giving me the hives. See you Thursday for pizza and the next of the Final Fantasy series?”

Steve laughed and stepped into the elevator. “Of course. I know you’re tired of getting your butt handed to you in Street Fighter.” 

And with that, Steve was gone.

Tony scrubbed his hands over his face as he watched the elevator numbers go down. “Fuck, what am I doing?”


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey Pep.”

“Nnhnnn?” Pepper’s voice sounded low and rumbly with Tony’s head resting against her soft breasts.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with Steve anymore.”

“Hmmm?” She ran her hand through Tony’s hair, and Tony felt so at peace right now. It’s a different sort of buzz from that of a few hours ago, with Steve quivering and sobbing beneath him. And not just because he’s now the one with the sore ass.

“He… well, he just needs so much. I know I started it, what with all the offer of light bondage, but it’s now this whole…” Tony flapped his hand vaguely against Pepper’s belly and finished lamely, “… thing.”

“Ah, yes, a thing.” There was amusement in her voice now. “I’m sure Steve Rogers was the one who insisted in coming up to our private suites and begged for you to unearth your toy box.”

“Well, no.” Tony shifted so that Pepper could scratch a different part of his back. “He just looked so sad, and if I didn’t do anything he’d just have gone back to that sad apartment in Brooklyn.”

“So what’s your problem here? I thought you liked Steve.”

Tony turned his face towards Pepper. Having her around always made problems seem simpler. “I do. I just… I don’t know what I am to Steve now.” It was supposed to be just something friendly, and now he’d seen Steve cry. Tony was fairly sure that Steve didn’t let most people see him cry, and that the number had just doubled in the last 3 hours. God. Maybe he needs to call up Aunt Peg and apologize or something.

“Arrgh.” He buried his head deeper into Pepper’s softness. “What was I thinking? And I wasn’t even all that drunk this time.”

“Well, if I remember correctly, you started this because Steve was sad and you saw a way to help, and also you wanted to, and I quote, ‘try some vintage dick’.”

“Yeah, that part was pretty nice.” Tony conceded. “And it was nice breaking out the old toy box — it’s been a while.”

Pepper patiently continued playing with Tony’s hair and the sensitive bit behind his ears while he gathered his thoughts.

“It’s just that… I’m afraid that I might like it too much? Or that *he* likes it too much?”

Pepper chuckled, which came out as a rumble against Tony’s head. “Hey now,” he groused. “I’m being emotionally vulnerable here, why are you laughing at my pain?”

“I’m sorry Tony, it’s just that … you’re confused about what to do because for once in your life, it’s not a one night stand.”

Tony pushed up to mock-glare at her, and she met his gaze. “What? Clearly you’re thinking about doing this more — you didn’t put the box back in storage — I almost tripped on it when I got home.”

Tony sighed and slumped back down. “Well, that’s the problem, right? I *do* want to do this more, but I don’t know what that means. About me and Steve, and about us.”

She traced her finger around the rim of his reactor. “I know what I mean to you.” Then she pinned him with her gentle, thoughtful look, and oh my god she was so brilliant and so trusting of *him* of all people. She knew all of his flaws and yet she was here. “Is there a reason that I *should* mind?”

Everything inside Tony was clear and bright under her gaze. He rolled his eyes and arced up for a kiss. “No, of course not.” 

They got distracted by the kissing and other stuff for a little bit, but the Steve thing was still gnawing at Tony, so after they’d rearranged themselves with Tony’s face buried in Pepper’s hair, he started again. “But this thing with Steve… how do I not fuck it up?”

“Well, I don’t kiss and tell when it comes to Natasha,” said the back of Pepper’s head.

“Except you do. On and on about how much better she is at kissing.”

“Well, she knows that I tell you *that* stuff, but not the girl talk.” Pepper gave his arm a gentle swat. “Anyway, my point is, you need to be clear about what you’re getting out of this emotionally as well as physically. And if one of the two doesn’t work out, you need to stop.”

“How do you make it sound so simple? I’ve got seven doctorates and I still don’t know how to do this.” Tony knew he’s whining, but all this relationship stuff just sounds so damn hard. “I wish there was an algorithm for this.”

It had the desired effect: Pepper turned around, gently cupped his face, and said firmly, “Tony, you’re having fun right now, so you should stop worrying and go for it.” Then her gaze sharpened and her voice deepened to carry the weight of the CEO of Stark Industries. “Just remember this: you’re Steve’s friend, but you’re not a replacement for Barnes. And if Steve ever starts treating you that way, stop.”

Tony turned Pepper’s hand over to kiss the palm. “Thanks, Pep.”

Pepper smiled, then she yawned and flopped back. “Now give me a back rub, I’ve been sitting in board meetings all day.”

Tony was quick to comply — at least this was one thing that he did better than Romanoff.

\------

So it became a regular thing — Tuesdays and Fridays, Tony and Steve would do other stuff, but on Wednesday night, they’d order in, Tony’d catch Steve up on some quality films of the 80s and 90s, and then they’d crack open the toy box and try something. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t, but it was fun regardless. 

To the shock of no one, Steve really liked sensory deprivation, since the serum gave him heightened senses anyway.

They were both surprised to discover that spanking was a no for Steve, and Tony learned that part of being a young rabble-rouser in the 1920s was that Steve got spanked a lot by grown-ups. Ew.

Thankfully, the same squick didn’t apply to floggers and canes, and Steve quickly developed a fondness for Tony’s nine-tail.

Steve put a quick stop to Tony calling him “babe” or “doll”, but was mildly curious about stockings. At least, enough to try them and decide they were “eh,” which made Tony secretly glad he didn’t lend Steve his favorite set.

One thing that Steve was far from neutral about was butt stuff. He just wanted everything up his butt, so Tony got pretty creative — remote-controlled e-stim plugs, odd silicone shapes, fancy bondage benches, etc. It’s quite a sight to see, Steve’s back arched and legs tremoring as he shifted between the dildo in his ass and the nipple clamps pulling the other way, all while trying to suck Tony’s cock.

And oh god could Steve suck cock. Apparently he did it a *lot* back in the day, and his technique is impeccable — great control on suction, saliva, and speed. It’s so good that Tony would brag about it to Pepper and see her fond indulgent smile.

Not that Tony was shabby at the fellatio, either. After that first lick, it was the first thing he asked for the following session, and Steve was quite indulgent. But it was mostly something for Tony -- Steve didn’t seem to get off on it, though he reassured Tony that it felt good.

One session was particularly bad — they were trying service and subservience, and when Tony ordered Steve to get on his knees and crawl, Steve laughed in Tony’s face. “Howard used to order me around like this.” Then he said in perfect mimicry of Dad, “’Hold your arm out so that I can measure this. How fast can you run between these two points? Do it again. Crush these cement blocks between your thighs, Rogers. Now do it while you’re bent over.’” 

Steve stopped and apologized once he saw Tony’s face, but it left a bad taste in Tony’s mouth. 

Even then, on the bad days, it was easy enough to get Steve off with the old standbys — a plug in the ass and some strategically applied flogging and Tony’d have Steve shuddering under him. And if Tony didn’t end up coming on Steve some time in the process, Steve’d get on his knees and suck Tony off, eyes wide and eager as he bounced his head on Tony’s cock.

It was great — Tony’d forgotten how much he enjoyed his toy box, and Steve was game for anything. Sometimes they’d ask a bot to pull a random item out of the box and then improvise. Tony started designing new toys to surprise Steve — some of them ridiculous, like a dildo alarm clock that ran on its dildo legs (which promptly made Steve challenge Tony to a “shitty dildo robot” competition). Others made Steve blush, like custom-fit nipple clamps that came with a StarkPhone app and 20 customizable settings. Tony’d forgotten how much fun it was to custom-design something for other people.

And then Steve discovered cock cages.

It had seemed a simple enough jump from the shibari to the cock cage. After all, Steve wasn’t really masturbating outside of their Wednesdays, and locking/unlocking the cock cage barely took any effort, compared to all of the time that Tony spent taking off and redoing the shibari ties. Some weeks, having the cock cage was enough to keep Steve grounded so he even did without the shibari, which meant more time to race their dildo-bots after a session. 

But then Steve started looking at Tony funny *outside* of their Wednesday nights. They’d be chatting about quinjet design features or Steve’d be ribbing Tony about how little he cared about sports, and then suddenly Steve’d shoot Tony a shy, flushed look. A look of “I’m turned on but you have the key to my cock cage.” A look of “I’m saving myself for you.”

A look of “I belong to you.”

Tony started leaving the tiny key in the toy box.

———

Steve was flushed and happy from having just come, humming “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” to himself as he cleaned himself up and put away the toys. 

Tony tried to focus on finding the middle of the red rope piled around him on the floor, but instead he was thinking about the way Steve had asked Tony to touch his face, the way he had leaned into Tony’s hand as he came from the e-stim, the way Steve had blushed as he handed Tony the rope afterwards.

“Hey Steve.” His throat felt like ash.

“Yeah?” Steve knelt reverently in front Tony, skin warm and pink, with the thin red lines of a thorough caning swiftly fading. “Rope first or cage first?”

Tony looked up at Steve’s smiling face, and resisted running his hand along Steve’s loose limbs. Wasn’t this what he wanted when he started this? Steve happy in Tony’s favorite century. Steve without all the tension and the burden of the shield.

Tony started to loop the rope around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiled and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, giving himself up to Tony’s ministrations. 

“Steve.” Tony dropped his hands.

“Hmm?” Steve half opened his eyes. “What’s wrong, Tony?”

Tony couldn’t meet Steve’s gaze, not when Steve looking at him like *that*. “Look, Steve, I can’t be that for you.”

“Be what?” Steve’s voice was losing its warm post-sex vibes.

“You want someone who you can entrust with your life, your cock,” Tony held out the cock cage, “your everything. And I’m not that person.” He was greeted with silence, so Tony plowed forward, not daring to look up. “Steve, I can’t even keep pets alive because I forget to feed them, which is why I have bots.” He wrung his hands uselessly, then pushed the cage and the key toward Steve. “I can’t be your key-holder. It’s too much.”

The cock cage and key stayed in the middle space between them for a long time, heavier than a black hole. Staring at it brought a queasy feeling to Tony’s stomach, but at least it was better at looking up at Steve’s face. 

Finally, Steve’s hands reached into Tony’s field of vision and pushed the key back. “Tony, when we started this, you said it was about trust. And I trust you with this.”

Tony heaved a sigh. “That’s the problem, Steve.” And suddenly all of the pent up feelings from the last few weeks rose up and came out of him, and it turned out he could say it straight after all. “Look, I can make or buy whatever you need — toys, floggers, dildos — but when what you need is *that* … It’s too much. I’m just a billionaire genius philanthropist, Steve. I can’t be more than that.”

“But you *are*, Tony. You’re more than the suit and the money and the … “ Steve waved a hand at the room, “the show. You’re my friend. You helped me when you had zero obligation to. You knocked on my door when you didn’t even know me. You showed me the future. You helped me understand my body. You made me feel alive again.”

Someone was laughing in ugly rasping breaths, and Tony realized that it was him. “Steve, you’re a friend. A good friend. An amazingly hot friend who looks beautiful in bondage and who comes like a freight train. A friend who I’d trust with my life in battle. But the way you look at me now, the way you give yourself to me — ” he gestured futilely at the accursed key, the pile of rope. “That’s more than being a friend. I can’t. Maybe Barnes could have, but…” 

And suddenly all of the ugly feelings of the last few weeks had a name. Pepper was right, all those months ago. Heck, he’d even said it to Steve himself after their first time. “I can’t be your Bucky replacement, Steve. I don’t even care about *myself* the way he cared about you, I can’t do it for another person.”

“But Tony, I *know* you’re not Bucky, and I’ve never thought of you as a replacement.” Steve’s voice sounded confused.

“Haven’t you? You don’t just want a friend, you want a friend the way *he* was your friend. You said it yourself -- he was your everything. And … I can’t be that. Bucky’s dead, Steve, and I can’t be your one and only friend.” Tony knew the words were coming out wrong. Too angry, too accusatory. But he didn’t care anymore. Anyway, sometimes his mouth had a way of knowing what his head refused to acknowledge. He picked up the key and finally looked at Steve as he held it out. “You gave rights to your cock to him 70 years ago, you can’t just give it to me now.”

Tony was sharply aware of how many bridges he’d just burned with those words. But then again, that was the only thing he knew how to do. Might as well burn the whole village down.

“Tony, I … it’s not about Bucky.” For a moment, Steve looked like he was 17 years old and 95 lbs.

“But it is. It always is, Steve.” Tony closed his eyes, remembering Pepper’s words. “I can’t be Barnes for you. I don’t want to be.” And now, the final salvo. “I don’t think we can keep doing this.”

The silence that followed stretched out like the unending expanse of desert, marked only with stray shrubs and rocks that shook with the impact of Stark Industries missiles. The heat waves from the explosions rolling across the sand, the moment of silence after the boom, when all the oxygen has been sucked out of the air. Out of habit, Tony turned his back on the destruction and willed himself not to think about what was under the cross-hairs.

Finally, Steve let out a long sigh, heavy and hot like the desert air.

“I’m sorry, Tony. You’re right. I’ve taken advantage of your kindness.”

Steve’s calloused hands took the key from Tony, and then there’s a dull thud as it was dropped onto the floor. When Tony opened his eyes again, Steve was already up and pulling on his pants.

Tony sat there and watched as Steve put the cock cage and the rest of the toys away, then tidied up the room. The flushed happiness was gone from Steve’s face, and the tension had returned to his shoulders. God. Tony’d forgotten what Steve’s Captain America face looked like. Civil. Professional. Shuttered.

“Thank you, Tony, for stopping this before I inconvenienced you further.” Steve stopped before getting in the elevator. “Um… I think it’s best if we don’t meet for pizza on Friday.”

“Sure, let’s reschedule.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was two weeks before Tony saw Steve again.

He was working in his lab when a sandwich dropped unceremoniously into his lap. “Hey, Jarvis told me to make you eat this.”

Tony looked up — Steve looked surprisingly good. Well, he wasn’t doing the floaty happy thing, but he wasn’t not tense and angry, either. Tony cracked a smile. “What if I told you that the design you just messed up was going to revolutionize clean energy production?”

Steve shrugged. “You showed me the clean energy one 5 months ago, and that’s not it. From where I was standing, it looked more like you were trying to invent 4-dimensional Tetris.”

Tony laughed, pushed back from his desk, and took a bite of his sandwich. “I should *never* have shown you video games. Speaking of which, want to go play some Mario Kart?” It felt good, to have Steve back.

“I wish I could,” Steve gave Tony a wistful smile, “but I’m actually headed to Union Station — got a train to DC in an hour. I’m moving.”

Tony almost dropped his sandwich. “Wait, you’re moving to DC? When? How? Why? Wait, the when is clearly in an hour. The other two questions.”

Steve’s smile was tired, but genuine. “You were right, Tony. I need more friends in this century, I was putting too much on you, and that’s not right. So I called up Peggy, who set my head on straight. Then I called up Nick Fury, and after he apologized for the tesseract weapons, he offered me a job with SHIELD in DC.” 

Tony grimaced. “But their tech is so this decade. They use actual screens! Why not stay in New York and help me rebuild Stark Tower?” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, we can call it Avengers Tower and make our weird team up an actual thing. Whaddaya say? I’m clearly the red guy, you can be the blue guy, and we just need a green guy, a yellow guy, and a token girl.”

Steve smiled at Tony’s blabbing, then ticked off on his fingers, “I’ll get to visit Peggy regularly, I’ll have a proper reintegration team, and I’ll be working with a STRIKE team. The Smithsonian is excited to have me volunteer there. That’s at least 10 people who I’ll be interacting with on a regular basis.”

“Wow, that’s 1000% of how you were doing previously. See? I can do that sort of amazing math in my head because I’ve got …”

“Seven PhDs? Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Steve rolls his eyes, smiling. “Tony, I’m going to miss your shitty jokes.”

“Well, you could stay. I hear pizza in DC is horrible, and there’s no proper delis.”

Steve laughed. “Thank you, Tony. But you were right — I need to stop depending on you, and stop wanting Bucky back.” 

Steve got a far-off look on his face. “Y’know, when I called Peggy up, I asked her how she moved on after I died.” Tony knew the next words by heart, because he’s heard it so much from Aunt Peg. “And she said… just go out and live. Put one foot in front of the other. Smile. Meet people. Find something worth fighting for, and fight for it.” 

Steve picked up a duffle bag from the ground. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Wait, that’s all you’re bringing?” Tony was distracted from the fancy speech by the standard-sized duffle that was clearly bought at an Army Surplus store. “Did you even pack shampoo? I mean, yes, I know you have zero fashion sense and I’m glad you’re finally ditching that antique TV, but seriously? That’s it?”

Steve shrugged. “They have a furnished apartment ready.”

Tony scooted his wheely stool over to a box in the corner. “Here, at least take this. You left them last time.” 

Steve’s eyes widened at the neatly bundled ropes, still fire engine red. Carefully, he reached over and took them, and his lips twisted up in something resembling a smile. “Thanks, Tony. They *are* helpful. The other day, I accidentally broke that TV that you hate so much.”

“In that case, I should be thanking *you* for removing that fucking eyesore from this world. I’d offer to put those back on for you, but yeah, that’s what got us here in the first place so…” For a second, Steve’s general calm and good cheer faltered, and Tony could see how fragile this peace was. He scrambled to recover. “Thankfully, DC has more Doms per capita than anywhere else. I mean, have you seen all the guilt that those senators need beaten out of them? Jarvis, can you send a list of recs to Steve’s phone?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“And tell me your address when you get settled in — I’ll send the rest of the stuff over to you — after all, most of it won’t fit anyone else anyway, and it’d be a pity to have that go to waste. And I know you won’t say no because you hate wasting stuff. I’ve seen you save those deli take-out containers, you freaky old person.”

“You got me there.” Steve made a helpless gesture. “Besides, you’d probably just make Jarvis find the address if I don’t send it to you.”

Tony stood up. “Oh come on, Steve. I respect you enough to not go nosing around if you don’t want me to.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, I know.” He stuck out his hand and shook Tony’s hand. “Thank you, Tony.”

And with that, Steve was out the door and gone.

\-------

Steve did send over the address, and sometimes Tony dropped by after one of those idiotic Senate subpoenas. He’d bring some proper pizza and tell Steve about his latest attempts to reinvent Tetris while Steve made snarky comments and kicked his butt at Street Fighter.

But then Steve’s work got busy, and half the time the apartment was empty when Tony visited.

Then it got too cold in New York, and Tony moved back to Malibu, where he has a bigger workspace for suits anyway.

Sometimes the lab felt lonely, sometimes his fingers ached to be fiddling with rope instead of a screwdriver, and sometimes he forgot to eat, but there were always enough ideas in his brain to distract him and enough nightmares to keep him moving forward.

———

“Hey Tony, you okay? I’m sorry — I was on a dark ops mission in international waters so I didn’t hear about the Mandarin thing until just now. God, I should have been there to help …”

“Don’t worry, Rhodey did lots of shooting and Pepper and I handled Killian. We make a great team.” Tony wondered he if he should mention how good it was to hear Steve’s voice again.

“Of course you do. She probably saved your butt.” 

“Yeah, she did.” Tony paused. Steve did a good job covering it, but he sounded a bit wistful. “Hey Steve, we made a good team, too. Y’wanna come up to New York some time? Now that my Malibu place is kind of nonexistent, I’m kind of in New York permanently. You have a whole suite in the tower, and I have some Avengers stuff I’d like you to frown over. Whaddaya say? Be the sullen blue guy to my blazing red guy leadership? Nothing hinky, I swear.”

Steve chuckled through whatever shitty phone service he was using. “Yeah, Tony, I’d like that. A lot.”

“Great. I’ll have my people call your people. Which just means getting Jarvis to buy you some train tickets. And also a new cell phone, because whatever you’re using is clearly from the last century.”

“What can I say? I *am* ninety-six.”

It felt good to laugh with Steve again. 

\------- 

By the time Steve got up to New York, Tony’d had his arc reactor removed. It now made a nice paperweight for all of the Avengers Quinjet blueprints.

Steve tossed the humming reactor between his hands. “So now you can get into subspace again, right?”

“Yeah… I suppose I could.” Huh. Tony’d forgot about that. But why would Steve bring it up? “You’re not offering, are you?”

“Nah, I’ve tried it, and it’s not my thing.”

Tony sat on that for the rest of the design meeting, where Steve pointed out all the things that Tony’d forgotten normal people needed, like weapons lockers, seat belts, and charge ports. Then just before Steve headed downstairs to his own suites, Tony asked, “Hey, if you ever need someone to… with the shibari…”

Steve smiled, tight but not forced. “Nah, I’m fine. It’s not as intricate as the way you did it, but I got something figured out for when I need it.”

“Great.” Tony went back to drawing up design for a new Avengers gym, and definitely didn’t think about his hands on the rope and Steve’s body quivering underneath. Nope, not at all.

Things normalized. And sure, sometimes Tony looked over at Steve, laughing with Romanoff or chatting with Barton, and he wondered if Steve was still wearing the fire-engine red ropes under his suit. But that was Steve’s business now, and Tony gave up the right to know a long time ago.

After the SHIELD shitshow in DC, Steve moved up to New York proper, and even brought a new friend with him. Sam was great -- laughed at all of Tony’s jokes, and Steve was clearly more relaxed, too. After the Sokovia mess, Steve spent a lot more time taking down HYDRA bases and training the new Avengers, but he still found time to kick Tony’s butt in Street Fighter, so Tony was all too happy to have everything to be back to normal.

————

Until it wasn’t.

————

Standing in the cold Siberian bunker, Tony wasn’t sure what hurt more, that Steve didn’t tell him that Bucky was alive, or that Steve didn’t tell him that the Winter Soldier killed his parents. 

“I thought we were friends, Steve.” Tony watched the video play against the glass of the abandoned base. “I came here to help. And I could have helped you find Barnes if you bothered to tell me -- I knew how important he was to you.” He swallowed heavily. “And you knew how much my parents’ death meant to me. You should have told me.” Tony swung his arm out and pointed. “I deserved to hear it from you, Steve. Not that sleazeball over there.” The words choked in his throat. _You chose Bucky over telling me the truth. You chose my parents’ killer over me._

The good thing about his Iron Man suit, was that the targeting mechanisms calibrate for vision obscured by tears.

* * *

“Damn it.” Tony pushed his chair away from the lab table before he could break Rhodey’s latest leg brace out of frustration. It’s too stiff, too heavy. It could do the walking for Rhodey but Tony needed it to adapt to Rhodey’s slowly strengthening muscles.

He wished there was someone he could talk to. A month ago, he’d be able to step outside his lab and see Vision cooking with Wanda, Sam and Rhodey eating cookies and chatting about the air force, and Steve would be playing cards with Natasha… How did he get here? The Avengers broken up, the Tower empty.

He wanted to blame Barnes, but he couldn’t — the guy was just trying to live his life, and Tony’s looked up enough HYDRA files in the last 2 weeks to fill his next decade’s worth of nightmares. He wanted to blame Steve’s singular ability to throw caution and logic to the wind when it comes to Barnes, but he got it. After all, Tony remembered the moment when he thought he’d lost Pepper to the flames, when he just wanted to jump after her, when nothing made sense and he just wanted to go on a destruction rampage and curl up and cry at the same time. Then he tried to imagine how he’d feel if Pepper, instead of coming back in that blaze of glory, came back as … well, Him. 

Tony sighed. Yeah, he’d be protective as hell, too. He still hated what the Winter Soldier did, but… he supposed he couldn’t blame Barnes and he couldn’t blame Steve for siding with him.

So now he was sitting in a training facility in upstate New York, hoping to salvage what he could of Rhodey’s spine. 

“I thought we were friends, Steve.” FRIDAY was smart enough not respond. “We built the Avengers together, and you chose Bucky over the team.” The ceiling remains unresponsive. Tony sighs. “I guess it’s always been Barnes, hasn’t it? You even chose him over the shield.”

There was a knock on the window. A man with a FedEx package.

Tony read the letter and put the phone aside. He couldn’t call Steve, not yet. But at least Steve apologized. That was something, right? Tony slid the phone into his desk drawer, and moved to toss the Fedex box in the recycling. 

Except there was something else in the box. He peered inside — it was a soft mass of fire engine red. “You’re shitting me.”

Tony reached in and sure enough, it was the familiar silken strands of the rope. Tony pulled it out, and a folded piece of paper fell out of the bundle. The handwriting was less composed than the letter, as if it were jotted down in a hurry, each letter sharp with worry.

> _Tony. I just heard about what happened with Rhodey. I’m sorry, I ~~wish I~~ Here, maybe this might help. Good flexibility and control for some leg sling thing. And Bucky’s arm’s gear/neuro-schematics. Do your Tony magic. ~~I wish I could~~ Call me if I can help in any way._

Tony couldn’t help laughing, because of course Steve Rogers, halfway around the world and with zero PhDs to his name, had managed to break Tony’s design block.

“FRIDAY, bring up those tensile rope schematics, and see if you can scan and parse these neuro-schematic diagrams?”

“Certainly, sir. It’ll be just a moment.”

Tony fingered the rope, then eyed the shield sitting in the corner of his office. Steve didn’t have anything on him when he left -- just his suit. Which meant …

Tony leaned his swivel armchair as far back as it would go, and stared at the ceiling.

When Steve raised his shield up and slammed it into his arc reactor, Tony was certain Steve was going to kill him to save Bucky.

Instead, Steve remembered what Tony’d forgotten in the heat of battle: he no longer needed the reactor to live. Steve’d remembered.

“He didn’t tell me because he wanted to protect me.” After that one bad session, Steve’d never brought up Tony’s parents ever again.

Barnes wasn’t the only person Steve was trying to protect. And sure, Steve made the wrong call on this one, but Tony’s done stupid stuff to protect his friends, too. A lot of stupid stuff.

“Hey FRIDAY?”

“Yes sir?”

“After you finish processing the schematics, can you make a set of the ropes and mail it back to wherever this FedEx package came from?”

“Certainly, sir. The same length and color, sir?”

“Same length, but make it blue. The same color as the Bucky Barnes jacket in the Smithsonian display.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and toss in a tube of Brylcreem.”

Tony smiled as he started pulling out numbers and throwing design parts at each other. They’re going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was an interesting fic to write, and I hope I did the characters justice. (I just really want Tony and Steve to be friends again...)


End file.
